


Coffee Cups and Angel Wings

by thelvenqueen



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Biker Daryl, F/M, college beth, just something small and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelvenqueen/pseuds/thelvenqueen
Summary: Getting hit by a car sucks, but a certain singer makes up for it.





	Coffee Cups and Angel Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Came across the "Fuck I feel like I got hit by a car… Wait I did? And it was your car?” otp starter on tumblr and this is what happened  
> Enjoy~

Blonde hair. That was that last thought that crossed Daryl Dixon’s mind before blacking out. Messy blonde hair draped over soft shoulders and a voice to match. That and how much his head hurt along with the pain that came radiating from his side.

_Hell, that hurts!_ Slowly he started to move his sore limbs. He was lying on his back on what felt like cushions, although he doesn’t remember making it home. He could feel the weight of his vest and his boots still on. The last thing he remembered was leaving a coffee shop on his motorbike after grabbing a quick bite to eat.

He popped into a small café a couple blocks from his garage but ended up staying longer when he heard her. In the back corner of the café there she was, strumming her guitar and singing without a microphone, her voice loud enough to carry over the small café. Daryl Dixon has never been one to use clichés, but angelic was the only word he would use to describe the sight of her under the multicolored lights.

He clapped quietly at the end of her set along with the rest of the small crowd and finished his coffee. As he had gotten up to throw his trash and grabbed his helmet ready to go on about his day. Their eyes had met briefly across the room while she packed up her guitar before he broke contact first. Part of him wanted to tell her that he thought she did a good job up there but his timid nature got the better of him. He was a wallflower, always had been, and he was content with that.

“Damn, I feel like I got hit by a car.” He mumbled as he shifted trying to sit up.

“Um, you sort of did.” A soft voice said, making Daryl realize he was not alone. He finally opened his eyes to find himself looking up at blue concerned eyes and that same messy blonde hair.

“Huh?” was all he could muster up. He must be dreaming…or dead.

"You sort of did get hit by a car,” she repeated meekly. Her eyes went to the floor, suddenly embarrassed. “And it was more of a truck, my pickup actually. But I didn’t hit you exactly! You drove out in front of me on your motorbike and my front fender nicked your back tire and you took a nosedive off the bike. I’m so sorry!”

He blinked up at her again still trying to process everything, not sure of what to say. Luckily for him she kept talking. Not that he minded. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with, plus he was still a little dazed from all the information he just received. Not to mention he was still in pain. It must have shown because she looked more concerned.

“Oh gosh, how bad are you hurt?” She asked getting closer to try and assess him now that he was awake. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Daryl adjusted himself on the couch, just a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing major he decided, he’d had worse. It wasn’t the first time he was thrown off his bike. Everyone has to learn somehow. “Nah I’m fine, just sore.”

“Let me get you some ice. I got some aspirin too if you want,” she said getting up and going into what he assumed was the bathroom. He pushed himself up a little further to look around. He was in a small apartment decorated with strings of lights and a couple family photos. Outside the window he could see the local college campus a few blocks away. The room was neat, with a few papers and shoes thrown around. The guitar he saw her playing with was in the corner. It was nice, cozy.

She came back with an ice pack, a glass of water and two pills. He took them clumsily and swallowed the pills. Satisfied with his care he leaned back on the couch to look at her, who still looked worried that he might fall over on the spot.

“It's not bad or I think I would have been in a hospital bay instead of here.” Daryl rasped out, he was hoping to lighten the mood a bit, but was now worried his voice sounded a bit rougher than he intended. He doesn’t talk with people often so his small talk was a little rusty. He was relieved when he saw her shoulders relax and take a seat across from him on the glass coffee table.

“Well you were still talking when I ran over to see if I had killed you,” she said, guilt creeping through. “Tried to get back on your bike too, but I figured that wasn’t the greatest idea so I brought you up here just to make sure you could at least walk in a straight line. Seems like you just needed to lay down for a bit.”

He just grunted and nodded at the explanation, hoping he didn’t do anything too embarrassing while he was out of it. He was glad she didn’t take him to the hospital and here instead, but now he wasn’t sure what to do. His eyes drifted towards her guitar again, remembering when he saw her earlier and how beautifully she sang.

“I’m Beth by the way.” She smiled at him.

“Daryl.” He looked back at her.

“I remember seeing you at Coral’s Café. I sing there on weekends sometimes. It’s a nice little place right between here and campus. I hang out there between classes when I got time. Haven’t seen you there before though.”

He nodded, “yeah I pass by it on my way to work. First time I’ve ever walked in though.”

“Oh, well it’s a nice little place,” Beth smiled and gave him a look that Daryl wasn’t too sure what she meant by it. “You should come by more often. I owe you at least a coffee to make up for this” It was both playful and innocent at the same time.

Daryl cracked a smile. “Well, you did hit me with a truck,” he mumbled and looked to the floor. Daryl decided to leave out that he was too distracted thinking about her when he should have been watching where he was going. He brought his eyes up to meet hers, “it’s the least you can do.”

She giggled at him, relieved he wasn’t angry. _She sounds like bells_ , he thinks to himself, the second cliché he realized he has used today. “One condition though.”

“What is it?” Beth asked, furrowing her brow slightly and tilted her chin.

Daryl flashed her a crooked smile. “I’m driving.” She blushed at this, making him grin even more. What was he getting into?


End file.
